


The Ghost is No Concern

by Trash_000



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Developing Friendships, F/M, Haunted House, Haunting, Spooky, Talking To Dead People, ghost!rumple, sweet tooth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-08-11 03:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16467764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_000/pseuds/Trash_000
Summary: Mr. R. S. Gold was a dead man, quite literally. He’d lost his life a year ago and ever since that night he took to haunting his former home and possessions.What happens when the peculiar town librarian moves into his space? Will Gold manage to scare Belle French off, or will he just have to get used to his new housemate?





	1. The Ghost is No Concern

Rum Stirling Gold was a name many people in StoryBrooke had learned to fear. While he lived, he’d not only been the prickly pawn shop owner, but also the ‘ruthless’ no-nonsense landlord most the town loathed and yet, still tolerated and rented from. However, that’s not where the fear tended to come from these days. Not since late spring of the previous year. He had died in a tragic accident involving a lightning storm and a fallen tree approximately one year ago and the rumours were that his spirit was making damn well sure nobody touched a thing that was his. 

Except they were not rumours, not really because it was the truth. He’d been haunting the pink Victorian and all his possessions inside of it ever since the night he watched the paramedics pull his lifeless body out from under a thick oak, from the mess of shattered glass and twisted metal that had once been his prized Cadillac. The first three months after his death, when his house had been new on the market, people would show up on the regular only to all but sprint out of the house with tales of the triple-step sound of a man walking with a cane, or the strong stomach turning metallic stench of drying blood. Stories of rooms cold as ice, doors slamming shut and even books flying off shelves, and they were all true. He’d even once kicked a chair in the direction of a woman he couldn’t stand; the mayor’s sister, Zelena Mills, when she insisted that nothing could throw her off purchasing his house simply because it had been his. Unsurprisingly almost being hit by a chair out of nowhere threw her off and she fled quickly.

His hauntings could range from not exactly subtle and rather annoying, to blatantly obvious and intense depending on his mood and how much he wanted that particular person out. As a result of this, the citizens of StoryBrooke rather quickly learned to ignore the ‘For Sale’ sign on the lawn as well as the little ads in the paper. Nobody had wanted to upset Mr.Gold in life, and they certainly didn’t want to be on his bad side in death either, so they all stayed away. There hadn’t been anyone out there who wanted to mess around with a grumpy old ghost. Nobody brave enough to walk through the halls of his home for months, almost a year… that is until now. 

Belle French had waltzed into the Victorian one day just after dinner trailing behind Mayor Regina Mills; the woman who’d gotten the assignment of selling the building dropped in her lap after nobody else wanted anything to do with it. After months of seeing not one person within his walls, Gold was honestly very surprised to see the two women. Especially shocked that it was the young and peculiar Mrs. French interested in purchasing his home this time around. He hadn’t taken her for the ‘Huge expensive old house for just me’ type of person back when he’d known her in life. 

Yes, he’d known her, not terribly well, but she was one of the few people in StoryBrooke his living self was able to tolerate. Like many in town, she’d rented from him before his passing. The first few years while she was in town, she’d rented a little studio apartment above the, at that time, abandoned library while she studied at the little university on the edge of town. A few years later she ended up opening the library, and with running things for herself, decided she’d rather use the studio for storage and repair. She’d moved and rented a little blue house a few blocks away to live in instead. 

She’d been a pleasant tenant. She had always paid rent on time, called him with any inquiries or problems at reasonable hours, and always asked before making any renovations no matter how minor they were thought to be. She never showed him any distasteful feelings and was always pleasant and friendly towards him. He hadn’t any complaints about her, and not a single thing against her person, but that didn’t mean he wanted her living in his home and touching all his things. 

He’d been sitting at his old spinning wheel in the parlour that evening she’d walked in to see the place, wasting away the hours spinning wool into yarn. Upon hearing the door unlock and voices in his foyer, his head snapped up to look at the open area between the two rooms. He watched as Mayor Mills lead Belle to stand in said entrance, not far off from the foot of the stairs and speak in rather hushed tones.

He rolled his non-corporeal eyes before observing the two a brief moment. He tried to think of an appropriate way to spook Ms. French off. He didn’t want to go overboard, it wouldn’t be fair to completely terrify the one person who’d showed him kindness in his life simply because she was hoping to upgrade her living arrangements. But still, it had to be enough to get her to leave. 

He was just thinking about maybe knocking something off a shelf or shifting the temperatures to give her an eerie chill when he noticed her eyes were lingering in his direction. Oh. He hadn’t stopped his wheel and it was still slowing itself. It must’ve caught her attention. He smirked to himself, that would unnerve anyone wouldn’t it? An old wooden wheel moving on its own in a famed to be haunted house? Surely it would give her second thoughts. 

Regina ceased her ongoings about… well, he didn’t quite know, he hadn’t been listening to inquire just what Ms.French was looking at. Belle’s eyes returned to her.. “Do you see that?” Rum heard the young woman ask. 

Mayor Mill’s back went straight. “What?” 

“The wheel.” Belle clarified. “It’s spinning…” she paused briefly, chewing her lip in thought. “There must be a draft.” Though Gold saw something in her eyes that told him she didn’t truly believe it was just that. 

Belle glanced back towards the wheel as it creaked to a halt. Regina’s eyes followed as the small sound echoed slightly. “Yes…just a draft.” The mayor nodded hesitantly in agreement. Regina was no stranger to the truth of his presence, however, he’d sent her running on more than one occasion. She just wanted to get the house out of her hands. 

Gold decided that was his cue. He nudged a small wood carving knickknack off the little shelf on his right. He smiled amusedly when the both of them jumped a little at the thunk it made against the hardwood.

Through gritted teeth, the mayor mumbled some half made explanation about an open window and the wind. He narrowed his eyes, grabbed a candle off the same shelf, and threw it in their direction. It soared cleanly in front of Regina’s eyes which went wide as saucers. It appeared she had no explanation for that. “Okay! You must know!” She began. “There are rumours of his ghost remaining here or something. He never took well to visitors, didn’t like people touching his things… He probably wants us to leave!”

Yes, yes he did. It appeared the mayor could be quite smart when she wanted to be. 

“Oh? Interesting...” The younger of the two women hummed thoughtfully, a small almost knowing smile formed on her lips. He stomped his foot loudly, his wheel and the shelf next to him rattled. No, not interesting! Go! He wanted to say, but he’d learned a while back that the living couldn’t hear him so he didn’t bother. 

Belle turned to face where he sat and Rum found that instead of any indication of fear, she wore a smile. “I’ll buy!” She exclaimed. His eyes narrowed. What? No! This wasn’t the plan! She was supposed to be scared of him. The rooms considerably chilled to express his displeasure with her words.

Both women tugged their jackets a little closer around themselves, shivering noticeably. The mayor rose a brow. “What about the-“

“I’m not afraid.” Belle chuckled, lightly shaking her head. “The ghost is no concern of mine.” 

Oh? Well, they’d just have to see about that, wouldn’t they? Fine, he’d let her buy it, but she wouldn’t be there long, guaranteed. He’d scare her off soon enough. He started his spinning again and watched with a smirk as the mayor almost jumped out of her skin. 

“Alright then, sold!” Rum watched as the two shook hands. The Mayor glanced towards his still spinning wheel before offering. “Let’s go back to my office and work out the details.” 

—

The first week after buying his house, she’d showed up every day around four thirty pm and cleaned straight through until ten. He’d tried many of things to scare her off during that time, but nothing unnerved her or made her want to flee. He spent the majority of the week growing increasingly frustrated. 

The first day, she’d used her time cleaning the foyer. He’d made to make her feel unwelcome that day. He followed her about and knocked the freshly dusted or wiped down knickknacks, ornaments, and the occasional picture frame to the floor. All she’d done was set them back where they’d belonged with a smile and a shake of her head. He’d left handprints on the windows while she was cleaning them, and she’d only wiped them away again and again. By the time she left that night, he was no closer to making her disappearance from his property a permanent one. 

The second day she spent cleaning out his kitchen. He smirked when she opened the refrigerator to find his old, expired food that nobody had bothered to clear out. He’d amplified the stench of the year-old, rotten, mouldy mush that’d once been his fruit and vegetable drawer and practically giggled almost impishly from his perch on the counter as she gagged whilst shoveling the contents of it into thick garbage bags. He’d broken a glass while she was nearing being done for the night in hopes that seeing he was willing to break things would ward her away from his home. Nothing. She kept working and swept up his broken glass, only semi-bothered by his hauntings.

The third day, she started with the parlour, making rather quick progress despite his distractions of spinning his wheel so it creaked loudly, or knocking more things down to the ground, and moved on to the library where he threw books off the shelves across the room, away from her because he wouldn’t chance hurting her. The book’s harshly hitting the walls and floor seemed to actually frustrate her to what he would’ve once considered an admirable extent but didn’t scare her off. She’d done a little dusting in his old office as well but left everything well enough alone that he only really tried to spook her once by knocking the pen holder off the large wooden desk, but it was also to no avail.

The fourth and fifth day, she focused on the upstairs rooms. The bedrooms, the bathrooms, and the hall. That’s when Gold started trying to step it up a bit because now she was going through all his most private things! He was very much irritated now, with her handling his favourite little trinkets and memoirs, snooping through his closets and beating the dust out of his best suits. Only he should be allowed to touch his things! He tossed stuff in her direction now, light harmless things, and he tried his hardest to hold doors closed when she opened them. He would slap or pull things he didn’t want her touching out of her hands. But she’d just kept on cleaning seemingly unbothered by his presence with a smile of her face as if she’d been expecting him to act as such. 

The sixth day, she brought in a few things of her own, and he was surprised to see that she didn’t intend to get rid of anything of his, or really move it around. She chose the larger of the two guest rooms as hers, leaving his master untouched aside from the cleaning and his son’s old bedroom alone as well. The kind of things she brought were little necessities. Her clothing and toiletries, pictures of her friends, family, and travels. She brought ornaments and trinkets and things he supposed that she just couldn’t part with, and of course some tech; a laptop and her smartphone. All things he noticed that she kept away from his things by leaving in the guest room of which she claimed. The only change she made to the rest of the house itself was she mounted one of those large flat screen televisions in the parlour, which Rum supposed he couldn’t exactly complain about. Later that night, he discovered that he found the History channel to be quite interesting and capable of covering up the silence he’d gotten used to hearing over time without driving him completely mad with the brainless drivel usually associated with modern television.

He didn’t try to scare her out that day. He figured she was probably getting much too used to his antics. Surely that’s why his blatant rudeness the day earlier hadn’t phased her in the slightest. To scare someone you have to catch them off guard, they couldn’t be expecting it. A break was necessary. That and she wasn’t really touching his stuff anymore, he had no reason to be angry. 

The seventh day, she walked in with groceries, tossed her keys in the little dish on the little table by the door where he used to put his, and put the food she bought away in his cupboards and his fridge. With that Gold grew a little irritated again. How dare she make his kitchen her own?! When she went upstairs and he heard the shower running he went to investigate what sorry excuses for food she’d brought under his roof. He looked through the freezer and scoffed at the unhealthy amount of microwaveable dinners she shoved in there. 

The ‘food’ in the cupboards wasn’t much better. Canned stews and soups and even spaghetti? Absolutely unacceptable! Boxes upon boxes of Mac and Cheese and Minute Rice, but what truly baffled him was how much of the cupboard was filled with sugary cereals, junky snack cakes, pastries, and cookies. Sure, he himself had quite the sweet tooth, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen so many different cookie types in one place that wasn’t a grocery store aisle.

He glanced over his ghostly shoulder before opening a box of cinnamon buns to steal one for himself. Who said a ghost couldn’t enjoy a good snack every once and awhile? His taste buds still worked and his digestion didn’t need to make sense. He simply knew he could eat and it wouldn’t fall straight through him as it did in the movies sometimes. Besides, surely missing treats would aggravate her to some extent, and hopefully, convince her to leave. He spent a good chunk of time afterwards snooping through the fridge and satisfying his cravings for sugar. 

After that day he decided to lay low and simply do his own thing, making it appear as if he’d given up but still proving to her every now and again that even if it seemed like it, she wasn’t alone. He’d spin his wheel while she watched television, he rocked in the old rocking chair in the library as she read, he’d take the odd snack when he felt like it, move something she’d put down just to frustrate her, but for the time, he let her feel as if he was done trying to scare her away. In reality, he was just giving her false hope.

—

The day came, three weeks into her staying under his roof when he decided it was high time to get back to work! The night prior she’d brought Ruby Lucas into his foyer. That was enough to kick his dead ass back in gear! He woke her up early, just a little past five on a Monday morning by knocking a cheap vase full of wilting flowers off her bedside table with his no longer needed cane. When it shattered to the floor she sat straight up, eyes blown wide. He smirked victoriously, happy to have caused such a reaction. She looked around wildly a second before she seemed to sense where he was, or more likely just saw his cane standing suspiciously all by its lonesome at her bedside, and looked in his direction. 

Furrowing her brows, she peered over the side of her mattress to look at the mess. “Fuck…” she cussed dully before falling back into bed. “I guess that’s one way to wake up…” he heard her say and he chuckled to himself. Her eyes directed his way again and she cocked a brow. “What? Getting bored, are you? It’s the crack of dawn… Haven’t you got something better to do at this time?” 

He smirked, mumbling to himself a barely audible “Most certainly.” Sarcasm lacing his tone making it high and almost twittery to his own ears. He watched as she nearly dozed off again and opted to drop his cane atop the mess and the sound it made spooked her awake again as he made his way out of the bedroom to think of his next plan of attack. 

…

He huffed out an unnecessary sigh, a long inhale and exhale his lifeless lungs didn’t need as he checked up on his little houseguest. It was only a few hours later at a quarter to eight in the morning. She usually left to open the library around this time and here he found her curled up in his best chair in his library with one of his books, still in her- no wait, hold on… those were his old pyjama pants! What the absolute fuck was she thinking? 

His ghostly legs marched him over the stand, directly in front of her and he slapped the dusty old romance from her grasp to the ground, brows furrowed in a glare that would more than likely go unseen, but would’ve been strong enough to unsettle someone’s stomach, surely, if it was.

He was surprised that after she’d jumped at the initial spook of getting her focus point taken away from her, she seemed to lock eyes with him, hers large, wide with shock and confusion. “What the hell!?” She asked him, or at least in his direction as if actually expecting a response. With his arms crossed in front of him, he simply continued to just glare down at her. Her eyes shifted to check on the time and she gasped loudly. “I’m late!” She leapt up, propelling straight through his form, leaving him feeling oddly violated and slightly offended at the same time. She rushed out into the hall to ready herself for her day. “Thanks for telling me Gold!” He swears he hears her call, though the mere idea of it was too unbelievable for him to appreciate. 

Strange woman, she is. With her trying to talk to ghosts and thanking them for haunting her. 

—

Another two weeks and a handful of failed attempts at sending her away screaming later, Rum waited, pacing along in the foyer, eyes checking the clock every few moments. She’d be walking in from work soon, and he had something bound to scare her in store for when she did. He’d spent all afternoon planning it out and setting it up so it’d have her running with her metaphorical tail between her legs. It was probably one of his most complex haunts yet, with many steps to be carried out and many things that took a good chunk of energy to perform, but it just had to work. 

He wondered how she hadn’t run already. She seemed well aware of his presence, and he was making it very clear he didn’t want others around his house, messing with his stuff, making a home out of his belongings, yet here she was, doing just that and not afraid of him and his warnings in the slightest. Sometimes, it was as if she was just ignoring it all. What was she thinking? What did she possibly have to gain from any of this? Why didn’t she just leave him and his things be? She should really just leave already.

Though, if he thought about it, he didn’t mind her being here as much as he’d thought he would. He hated to admit it but found it increasingly difficult to deny that, discovered over time, she actually wasn’t all that of a nuisance. She was quiet and rather introverted, so he hardly had to worry about her inviting people in and making noise. (Ruby Lucas seemed to refuse to enter the Victorian now, which he considered a good thing.) She didn’t touch too much of his stuff, just the things one would expect. Kitchen utensils, towels, and cloths, the books in his library and for some odd reason she just couldn’t stay away from his old pyjama pants… he supposed that was alright, he had no use for them anymore anyway. Besides she looked… cozy… wearing his clothes. 

He also couldn’t really complain all that much about her presence in his home, because, in a way, she was a new form of entertainment. Bothering her was fun, yes, but that’s not exactly what he meant. Sometimes it was nice to just watch her as she goes about doing things. She hums upbeat little tunes while cooking in the kitchen sometimes, often getting carried away with dancing to the song in her head. She manages to wriggle herself into interesting positions while deeply engaged in a novel -- her facial expressions, while she does so, are probably the most amusing things he’d seen in recent years.

She came home from work some nights with bottles of wine and tubs of ice cream or containers of cheesecake and simply plopped down in front of the television to watch reruns of strange reality shows, sometimes on cable and other times on that streaming site he vaguely remembered his son telling him about a few years ago. Netflix. 

Pawn Stars, Full House, and something by the name of Orange is the New Black were frequents, but her favourite, he noticed, was reruns she had on DVD box sets of a series that seemed to be about a bunch of crash survivors lost on some strange island in the middle of nowhere. She watched that more often than the others. 

Sometimes, he’d sit down and watch. Not necessarily the show, but her. Her reactions to their fortunes and misfortunes was entertainment far beyond any television show he’d ever laid eyes on. He briefly wondered that if his attempt at scaring her off today proved fruitless if it would be one of those nights. He was unsure whether he’d be majorly disappointed or not. 

Speaking of spooking Belle after work, he heard her car pull into the driveway outside. She’d be in any minute now! He made sure the lights were all out and rushed to his position at the top of the stairs. This was going to be good! 

The lock clicked and the door creaked open. He saw her step inside into the dark hall, a bag in hand. So it appeared likely it would’ve been one of those nights then. She stopped short, blinked a couple times trying to adjust to the darkness that he knew that she knew she hadn’t left the house in. A wave of his hand and the candles he’d set up throughout the foyer all simultaneously lit. He watched her shoulders draw up in a slight jump. She looked around at the mess he’d made while she was gone. Knickknacks were strewn about the floor, some even broken and chipped because damaged things were spookier than whole things for some reason. The whole place stank of blood, thick and metallic, similar to how he remembers it smelling after his crash, absolutely stomach-turning by trademark. He began his descent down the stairs, his famed triple-step echoing loudly throughout the house. Tonight he’d use all his classic moves amplified and combined. 

Another hand gesture had the book she’d been reading the night before, fly across the room, about a foot from her head, hitting the wall on her left, and knocking a vintage metal tea sign to the ground with a clatter. She jumped back with a start and he kept up with his plan. He reached the bottom of the stairs and the candles blew out, he chilled the room with an icy wind conjured from memory of that stormy night and watched as in the light of the doorway, she shivered quite violently as it passed. He paused his haunt a moment and chuckled to himself, glad that it seemed to be working. He readied himself to continue by raising another hand that would be responsible for making the door slam but was cut short. 

Stopped because right then her shoulders relaxed and she seemed to let out a sigh, shaking her head slightly from side to side as she shut the door lightly behind her and dropped her keys into the dish they always went into. She’d gathered her wits quickly by the looks of it. Perhaps he’d claimed victory too soon? “Ah, Shite!” He mumbled the curse to himself as he almost desperately reached out to one of the picture frames next to the stairs that he’d planned to let fall but ceased action again when he saw her directing a fond little smile his way. He murmured a soft string of cusses as he accepted his loss.

“That was a good one!” She spoke through her upturned lips as she turned on the lights. “You almost got me that time. You had me jumping, that’s for sure.” She giggled lightly as she made her way into the kitchen to put away what she’d bought before returning to hang the sign back up, pick up the book and to clean up the strewn about items on the floor.”You know some of these are beyond my repair right? We might have to throw them out…”. 

He groaned inwardly because he knew but hoped it wouldn’t matter. So it was all that work for nothing then? He allowed himself to slump down to sit on the last step, feeling drained, spent and a tad more than disappointed. 

“That probably took quite a bit of energy huh?” She asked as if knowing his current state basically on the floor. “I kind of feel bad that it didn’t seriously scare me now.” She shrugged a small thing. “But hey, at least you can finish up season four of Lost with me tonight!”

He huffed a sigh. Yes, he supposed there was that. 

“I bought Rum-Raisin ice cream. I know how you like it!” 

Ok, that made him feel a little better about his failure. 

—

He spent a few days after that evening in his old office draining his liquor selection and regaining his strength. That attempt had truly taken a lot out of him and he needed time to think and build himself up again. 

Though he’d quickly found out after his death that ghosts couldn’t get drunk or even buzzed, really, the harsh liquid still made efforts to soothe his spirits… pun not intended. So he’d just been sitting at his desk, nursing glass after glass and not paying attention to anything else but that. 

He had to think. Really think about the current situation. There were things he had to figure out. A way to get her to hightail it out of his Victorian and never look back. And if he couldn’t do that… what else would he do? He’d be stuck with her. But, he thought as he took another sip of his well-aged Scotch, would that really be a bad thing? 

Her having bought the house kept it off the market. That meant no more Madame Mayor touring people through that he had to waste energy scaring off. Belle being there meant there was always something to satisfy that sweet tooth of his in the kitchen and that his possessions always stayed clean and in good health. Her being around meant there was always something to do, someone to observe and play little tricks on from time to time. She kept him company too, in her odd little ways and attempts to interact. Her with her inviting him to watch strange television shows, sharing her snacks, talking to him and relaying gossip as if he were physically sitting next to her alive and well. 

Even when he wanted time and space to himself, she spent a good chunk of her time managing StoryBrooke’s library, leaving him plenty of time alone if needed. When she was home, he found it relatively easy to be by himself when wanted as well. He could just go stay in his master, or his office and she wouldn’t bother him. Like now.

But the problem was he’d lived a life kept to himself. His home was his, his belongings were his, and anything his was not for others and she was another. The first year of his death, he’d made sure it was known that that line of his still stood strong and wouldn’t falter. That his things were not to be touched by others and his house would remain his. Belle living here completely went against all he’d been previously working at. Her remaining in his home meant erasing the image he’d drawn for himself. Despite the positives to the current arrangement, he was at a loss for what was best. 

Another sip had him pause his thoughts and a soft knock of his office door pulled him away altogether. She’d found him somehow. He eyed the glass grasped in his ghostly fingers and surmised the floating measure of Scotch was probably a dead giveaway… once again, pun not intended. 

“Gold?” He heard her ask and his eyes returned to her worried expression. “Is everything alright? I haven’t seen much of you a few days.” 

He blinked at her, eyebrow cocked in confusion. Was she expecting him, a ghost, to respond? More importantly, was she concerned for his well being? Pointless! He was already dead. 

She glanced at the bottles that displayed varying levels of liquid scattered about on his desk and sighed. “Have you just been moping around this entire time?” 

No! He thought. Well yes, kind of. But not entirely. Mostly thinking! 

“Look,” She continued. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out but, I’m just… not really afraid of people beyond the grave in general. Never have been, and especially not in your case.” She eyed her shoes, her shoulders shrugging something small as a smile tugged at her lips. “I knew you before, unlike others. You were always kind to me... and... I know you wouldn’t ever try to hurt me. Not truly.” 

He rolled his eyes and murmured a soft “Debatable.” He drained his glass and set it down with a clunk. “If I ever encounter Ms. Lucas in my home again…” 

To his surprise, she giggled. “Oh, no worries there. Ruby’s got no plans on visiting.” 

He blinked confusedly a moment. She’d answered him? But… the living couldn’t hear him, not unless he projected his voice and he certainly hadn’t done that, he never really did. It wasn’t exactly in his style of haunting. Maybe it was just a coincidence? He needed confirmation. “You…” he began “You can hear me?” 

She nodded simply. “Mhm! It’s a gift. I’ve always had it.” She said with a bright smile. “Though you’re definitely one of the quieter spirits. You only ever mumble. It’s kinda cute in a way, the things you say when you think others can’t hear.” 

Okay- whoa! Hold on… cute? No, no he wasn’t cute, he was supposed to be frightening! He was a ghost! His vocals were meant to go unnoticed. Why was she able to hear him? What had she heard of him anyway? He doesn’t remember speaking much in her presence. This felt like some sort of odd invasion of his privacy, even if it technically wasn’t. “How?!” He practically demanded.

Her shoulders tensed. “I told you, it’s a gift. I was born with the ability.” She bit her lower lip “Surely you’ve heard of Psychics and Mediums? It’s kind of like that but… different. Real.”

It was almost a trapping feeling that came over him then. He was uncomfortable, in a very frustrated way. Paranoia took over his thoughts towards Belle. Why was she here? What else could she do that the other living people couldn’t? What was she trying to do? Did she really have some sort of plan? Why had she wanted to buy his house and put up with his spirit practically harassing her? What does she have to gain here? Mediums and Psychics? Weren’t they usually in contact with exorcists? But she said she was different. Was she an exorcist? Was she trying to get rid of him? It made sense if she truly wanted his house. What would become of him then? 

With his mind running frantic, with his mild confused panic, the room turned icy in temperature, the combined smells of his liquors melted together with the rest of his office air and enhanced into something stale and repulsive. A headache was forming in his non-corporeal mind, probably from the random surge of stress and emotion. He needed her to go! Right now! He needed his space! Had to clear his mind to think logically about this again. He took to stand, palms thumping against his desk and his voice was loud in the room “Leave me!” 

She jumped, actually jumped back, eyes wide with shock. She stepped back once, twice, it looked as though she might turn and flee right then, but she stopped and took a breath to calm herself. She nodded curtly. “Alright, I-I’ll be…” another deep rise and fall of her chest. “I’ll go to the store… we needed some things anyway.” 

‘We’. That word bounced around his head for a moment causing the pounding to fall off-rhythm. ‘We’ as if she considered them a pair. Like they were in something together. Not ‘I’, not ‘You’, but ‘We’. There shouldn’t be a ‘We’. They were in two different worlds. He was dead, she was living. They should be separate. There was supposed to be a barrier between them, he knew that, but ‘We’ implied she was okay with it being weak. ‘We’ implied she considered them friendly. 

‘We’ reminded him she’d been nothing but kind towards him. He felt a smidge bad in that moment for thinking her intentions could be anything but good-natured.

He inhaled, long and deep, then blew the panic out of his system. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her or her gift at the moment, he just knew he needed to be alone to calm properly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and growled out a low, firm “Go. Now.” As his parting statement and watched as she tensed once more before speed-walking down the hall. He’d apologize later for sounding so menacing but he’d needed her not to stay and question his mind as he suspected she might’ve done if his tone was any lighter.

—

She hadn’t returned that night. After his mind cleared and he’d had the opportunity to gather his thoughts, he found himself feeling concerned about her. Had he scared her off, truly? That’s what he’d wanted, though, wasn’t it? He’d almost been planning how to do so just before she’d appeared in his doorway. So why was he worried about her? Why did he feel guilty? 

She’d come to check on him, that’s why. She’d come to see how he was fairing after days of him keeping cooped up in his office. She’d been kind, caring and friendly towards him ever since he’d met her and his death didn’t make any difference to her on that front. She actually seemed happy that she was still able to talk to him and what had he done? Panicked, yelled at her to go away and sent her running. 

It was only after having the Victorian empty a full day with no idea whether or not she’d be coming home, that he realized he truly wanted her there. He wanted someone to talk to, someone who could listen. Someone who likely wouldn’t leave. Chances were if he hadn’t had her leave, she would’ve stayed until her own death and they could’ve haunted the Victorian together. How wonderful a thought.

He wasn’t alone with her there. A strange thought, considering he’d been alone most his life and even died on his lonesome. One would expect he’d have continued his loneliness in death, but surprisingly, that wasn’t the case. She’d been there, paying attention to him the best she could. It was nice, having her there, and he wished he hadn’t screwed it up before they could’ve had any real conversations. Perhaps they could’ve become close. 

He missed her, he realized. She’d grown on him and he wanted her to come back. 

…

At just after ten in the evening the day after she’d left, she walked back in like a breath of fresh air entering a dead set of lungs. She wasn’t wearing the clothes from the night before, actually, from the looks of what she was wearing, she’d spent the night at Ruby’s and borrowed something to wear the next day. She wore a tight blue dress, it’s skirt only barely reaching the knee, obviously one of Ms. Lucas’ more modest pieces. Belle had bags from the grocery store in her grasp. So she had gone there to get things? It hadn’t just been a coverup as she fled. He wondered what she’d bought. Now wasn’t the time to ask, however. There was something more important to say first.

She closed the door quietly and turned to drop her keys in their dish and nearly jumped out of her skin. “Holy crap! You spooked me!” She said hand over her heart. There was nothing to guide her attention his way this time. So she could see him as well then? Interesting. 

He shrugged. “Funny enough, I wasn’t trying to this time.” He joked so poorly he couldn’t even laugh. A small sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth instead. 

“I just…” She began. “I wasn’t expecting you to be standing by the door when I got here.” 

“And I wasn’t expecting you to return.” He said. 

There was an awkward beat of silence before she responded a simple “Well, I did. Should I go?” 

He shook his head and licked his lips, an anxious habit from when he’d lived. “I’m not unhappy you’re here, but…. Why did you come back? I don’t see what reason you’d have to.” 

She bit her lower lip and gave a shrug of her own. “I was always going to, I don’t really need a reason do I? I just thought I’d give you a little room. You seemed…” she trailed off.

“Panicked.” He continued for her and she nodded simply. He ran his ghostly fingers through his shoulder-length hair, brushing it back. “I did need the time for myself, so I thank you for that. I apologize if I frightened you.” 

He watched as she held back a smile. “I take it that means you’re done trying to get me to leave?” 

“I’ve had quite a bit of time lately to think about it.” He admitted with a curt nod. “You’ve grown on me.”

He watched as her face sort of lit up at the revelation. “Good, because you seemed lonely before. I’m glad to be of help.”

“What I meant is, you keep my house off the market and stock my cupboards with food to satisfy my sweet tooth.” He teased with a dramatic roll of his eyes and a smirk. 

“You have a sweet tooth?! No way!” She sarcastically joked back. “Which one?” 

He let out a breathy laugh and tapped his golden tooth. “Why else do you think it’s been capped? It was rotted halfway way to hell by my mid-twenties.” It was only partially a quip, it had needed restoration from a bad cavity, but the gold cap wasn’t exactly necessary. He just thought it looked neat at the time and was able to afford it. With a shrug, he continued on. “Some would say it’s my redeeming quality. Without treats, I’d surely be eating people alive.”

Her eyes sparkled with glee as she let out a chuckle and moved around him to go put what she’d bought away in the kitchen. “I’m sure you’ve got more things good about you than you know, but either way I guess it’s a good thing I came home with a cheesecake.” 

He nodded simply and followed her into the kitchen where she stopped short upon seeing a mess of snack cake wrappers. She turned back to him with a quirk of her brow. He purses his lips with a shrug. “I saved some HoHos for you.” 

“Did you now?” She asked, brushing a pile of discarded plastic aside so she could put down her bags. 

“Alright, no. I just haven't gotten to them yet.” He started to clean up the wrappings and then tossed them in the trash. 

“Mr.Gold… seriously? You’re a ghost…you don’t need to eat so much.” 

“But I can. That’s one of the perks of being dead.” He responded. “And please, you may call me Rum.” 

“Rum?” She questioned. 

“What? Did you think the ‘R’ in ‘Mr. R. S. Gold’ had no meaning? If we’re to coexist here together, we may as well be on a first name basis.” He pulled the cheesecake from its bag, opened its container and grabbed a couple forks.

 

“What’s the ‘S’ stand for?” 

“Spooky.” He quipped and she laughed. “It’s Stirling.” He stabbed into the cake without bothering to cut it into slices. “Have you a middle name?” 

She nodded. “Colette. It was my mother’s name. She passed away in childbirth.”

“Oh.” He said, unsure if he should offer condolences or not. “Did you ever speak to her?” 

She nodded. “Yeah, until my eighteenth birthday. She’s moved on now.” 

He nodded in understanding. She must’ve been one of those who died with a last wish or some unfinished business, likely seeing her daughter grow up. Gold had to briefly wonder if he had any of that before shoving a forkful of cheesecake into his mouth. 

This was the first night of their newfound mutual friendship. Their conversation continued going on easy. They came up with a short list of agreements while sitting around in the parlour a little less than an hour later, him at his wheel and her with a book in her lap. 

1\. No bringing people inside without his consultation.  
2\. No trying to scare her friends after allowing them in. Halloween and April Fools are excused.  
3\. Allow Belle to add her own personal touches to rooms she frequents.  
4\. Don’t throw out or replace any of Rum’s possessions, instead kindly ask to store things away in the attic.  
5\. Don’t eat all the sweet treats in one sitting unless the two of them are together and agree upon it.

They shook hands as a means to sign their verbal agreement. Shortly after, they devoured an entire box of HoHo’s between them while watching old reruns of Pawn Stars, Belle constantly asking if that was how business really worked and Rum either confirming or denying, mostly the latter. 

 

They would go on to become an interesting pair of housemates. One dead, one living, but neither trying to drive the other out. They were to become good friends.


	2. She See’s Dead People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle’s POV of The Ghost Is No Concern with something extra added near the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg guys I’m sooo sorry about how late this is! I had it all ready to go and I was waiting on my editor but well let’s just say life got in the way for him for a little while... Anyways we should be back up and running now! The final chapter of this story is being re-written currently so expect it soon enough (even if it’s a little late for Halloween stuff) and to anyone who’s read SIUK, my editors working on the upcoming chapters today! Should be up soon!

Rumours of Mr.Gold’s Ghost haunting up something fearsome on his old personal property hadn’t escaped Belle’s ears. She had been well aware of the stories that circulated and she had no doubts that they were true. Many people, the skeptics, like to pass off the stories of what went down in the pink Victorian as nothing more than tall tales, but Belle knew better than that. She knew that spirits truly roamed around with their own purpose and reasoning and tended to lash out against the living when a line was crossed. For Gold, that line was invading his personal space. 

Which made perfect sense to Belle when she thought about the type of man Mr.Gold had been in life. He’d been very closed off. He snipped and snarked his way through social situations to avoid revealing anything at all about himself to others. Other people to him appeared to be considered little more than vermin in which couldn’t be trusted with the most simple of things. He’d been a man with a love for valuable items, and who took great pride in his pieces, borderline possessive. It was completely logical that his soul would remain in the Victorian to guard his things. 

She listened to the stories and noticed that some people got it worse than others depending on how he’d felt about the person in life. An example being that when someone he’d had little quarrels with, like say, when David Nolan stepped into the Victorian and knocked a pricey-looking knickknack over, he tried to fix it himself only to nudge a candle over with his elbow, he was simply spooked with an eerie chill and the sound and feel of a stomp directly next to him. Meanwhile, someone who’d only ever been a nuisance to Mr.Gold, like Killian Jones, almost lost a hand to a soaring dagger for wiping a bit of dust off a window sill. Belle wondered what Mr.Gold would do to try to scare her off. They had no altercations, not even a rare squabble. She’d always followed his requirements, considered his preferences and as a result, he was always pleasant towards her when they met for any reason. 

When they’d interacted while he’d lived she couldn’t help but feel slightly bad for him. She’d had the feeling he was a lonely soul. He didn’t appear to have any friends or family in or around StoryBrooke. When she first moved to town she was in a similar situation and she related to him because they were in the same boat. However she quickly collected friends in the little town, Ruby, Ariel, Mulan, Anna, Mary Margaret, even Merida could be considered one. It was when she realized it was his closed-off demeanour that left him alone, save for the occasional stop and talk with Jefferson who she supposed she could consider an associate of his. She truly wished she was able to help him. He never took her invitations to come inside for tea on rent day, nor did he ever agree to meet her at times he was less busy. He was a loner by nature. 

It was only in the last few months of his life that she ever saw him occupying his time with another person in a remotely open and loving way. A young man a few years younger than herself, probably around age twenty-nine, had moved to town with his twenty-eight year old wife, and their ten year old son. The man spent a good chunk of time around Mr.Gold. It didn’t take long for Belle to figure out the man was his son, Neal Cassidy-Gold. Sometimes it appeared like the two of them didn’t get along, but Belle could tell they were trying to fix a broken past. Neal was in a state of denial for a good three days after finding out his father had died and avoided the Victorian at all costs. 

Another thing Belle realized about the late Mr.Gold’s hauntings is that he only grew more frustrated the more people showed interest in his things. Belle could tell he could use some help protecting his home, and she figured she could very well be the one to do so. With her gift, she could easily aide him. Being able to see and hear the dead has its perks. If she bought his place it would take it off the market. With her gift, he could tell her what the boundaries were and she could comply and maybe even work with him to reach some sort of compromise. However, his frustration in the first few months meant she’d have to wait to do so and wait she did. 

A year or so after his death the Victorian was still ‘Vacant’ and Mayor Mills was still looking for a buyer so Belle booked herself a viewing. When she walked into the house for the very first time she had no doubts that she needed to stay. She saw him in the parlour at his wheel from her place in the foyer, saw the look on his face when he first noticed her there. His initial reaction was one of shock and confusion as if he didn’t understand why she’d be there. She read that look as one of a lost spirit in need of a little help and companionship. She watched as he’d rolled his eyes as Regina started going on about the property’s assets as if he only then realized what was going on. He sat back and observed them, studying her looking thoughtful. She watched him out of the corner of her eye.

He met eyes with her briefly, appeared a bit puzzled before eyeing his spinning wheel. A smirk tugged at his lips and she knew what it meant. She knew he thought he could scare her easily. 

“Ms.French? Just what are you looking at?” The woman before her asked, annoyance in her tone. 

“Do you see that?” Belle questioned the Mayor. After being asked to clarify what’s she saw again she replied.” The wheel. It’s spinning.” She bit her lip when Regina appeared frightened and Mr.Gold’s spirit looked a little entertained by that sight. She felt the air thicken around them and the smell of the wool enhanced slightly as his smug smirk grew. His control over his powers was slipping and he was unaware. These were telltale signs that a ghost was enjoying ones suffering. She had to let him know that she couldn’t be swayed so easily. He needed to know she’d be more of a challenge. “There must be a draft.” She said to calm his ego and it worked momentarily. 

When Regina warily agreed it was just that, he took it as a challenge and started making himself more known, knocking something over, throwing something else, typical cocky ghost behaviour. Regina told her about his spirit remaining and Belle decided now was time to drop the bomb. She was buying no matter what. 

The Ghost didn’t matter, she was here for him anyway. 

—

Her first week after having ownership of the Victorian she dedicated for the sole purpose of cleaning. She’d show up after closing the Library for the night and went until she grew tired and needed to return to her old home for rest. He was increasingly bothersome all throughout that week but she didn’t allow him to get to her. He grew smug when he succeeded in the most minor of ways and she didn’t need him thinking she was due to leave any time soon. Other ghosts she spoke to around town told her to stay strong. 

“He’ll come around. I have no doubts in your abilities.” Mr. Prentice’s ghostly form would tell her each day he’d come into the library to read a medieval fiction as routine. “It’s easy to be alone in death, but never pleasant. He’ll learn to value your presence soon enough.” He’d scratch at his chin under his wiry white beard as he’d turn a page, eyes lifting to meet hers with a look of knowing and confidence. 

She’d always thank him with a small smile and the usual “I’m sure you’re right, Al. How’s the book?” 

He’d always smile back and point at the illustration of Merlin in ‘The Sword in the Stone’ “Interesting fellow, this sorcerer.” It seemed to be his favourite story for he read it daily. She never questioned why.

It appeared Gold had no idea about her gift, however as he acted as if she couldn’t see him and never tried to speak to her. The Ex-Sheriff’s spirit would offer to tell her not to stress about it each day on her way home from work. “Ah, I wouldn’t worry much about that, Ms.French. Mr. Gold’s always been the antisocial sort. He’ll speak to you when his heart says the times right.” 

“Thank you, Graham.” Belle would say with a nod. “I’m hoping you’re right.” However, she had her doubts. She was beginning to think that Gold truly didn’t know he could talk to her and she wasn’t sure how to tell him.

Most ghosts would pick up on how her aura differs from other living, but then again Gold didn’t have much experience with auras as he didn’t have much experience with the living. He never left the Victorian. Did he even know that he could? His only experience in interacting with living people was when he was scaring them away from his home. She’d decided to wait it out until he noticed her peculiarity himself. 

Other members of StoryBrooke's dead population would roll their eyes and tell her to just forget it. An eccentric woman Gold’s age who’d died during Belle’s second year in town, Ella DeVille being a perfect example. “Oh he’s a stubborn old ass, always has been. Honestly, it’s probably not even worth the trouble. You won’t be able to convert him. Just give up, darling. Changing his mind is a lost cause.” 

To this Belle simply ignored, and she was glad, for Gold’s blatant attempts at trying to spook her off came to a stop the day she found him sitting cross-legged in front of the open fridge digging into the chocolate cheesecake she’d bought at Granny’s that afternoon. She’d watched him only for a moment, her still shower-wet hair occasionally dripping, listening to his hums of content and mumbling adoration for sweet treats with a small fond smile pulling at her lips before leaving him to raid the kitchen as long as he saw fit. It seems she’d found his weakness. The man had a major sweet tooth.

…

He remained quiet and friendly enough from then on so long as she had something good in the kitchen, just occasionally being bothersome enough to cause her to roll her eyes. She noticed he never left her alone for more than an hour save for nighttime and while she was at work. If she was in the parlour watching television, he was there too, eyes hopping from the screen to her every few minutes. If she was in the library reading a good piece of fiction, he was not too far away ironically looking through his paranormal section. If she was in the kitchen cooking or baking something he sat perched somewhere nearby watching her with a little smile on his face. It seemed he rather enjoyed her being there. 

That is until the day Belle had a girls night planned over at Mary Margaret’s and she’d made the mistake of letting Ruby in to wait in the foyer as Belle readied herself to go. That pissed her ghostly housemate right off. 

She’d just walked in and closed the door behind them, he wasn’t waiting around by the door for her, Ruby would stay put by the door and she’d be quick about it so she didn’t think it would be a big deal. As Belle took off her shoes Ruby started asking questions. 

“So this is… is all this stuff his?” When Belle hummed the affirmation Ruby asked her next question. “So it’s true then, that he’s still around?” The waitress asked warily. She knew of Belle’s gift.

Belle shrugged “Well yeah. Ghost stories are rarely false from what I’ve seen. But he’s not too bad a housemate once you get used to his antics. He’s actually quieted down significantly since I’ve moved in.”

Ruby bit her lower lip and looked around the room warily. “Is he here now? With us?”

“He’s not currently in the foyer if that’s what you’re asking.” Belle supplied as she dropped her keys into the little dish by the door. She glanced into the parlour at the spinning wheel. It was still and he wasn’t there either, she turned to peek into the kitchen but there was no sign of him there as well. “He’s probably upstairs.”

“Oh… so what does he do?” 

Belle hummed as she entered the kitchen to get her Jell-O shots out of the refrigerator. Three of them were missing she noticed as she carried them back out to the foyer and put them on a barren little desk. “At first he was hellbent determined on getting me to leave but I think he might’ve given up. Now he just watches me from his frequent perches.” 

“Perches? You say that as if he’s some sort of bird.” Ruby puffed out an amused breath, eyes still nervously dancing around the room.

Belle let out a short laugh. “Well, it’s the best way to describe it. He’s either perched at the parlour spinning wheel, the library rocking chair, or on one of the kitchen counters stuffing his face.”

“He eats?”

Belle nodded simply.“Yep.” The triple step of a man with a cane echoed from upstairs, floorboards creaking and Belle sighed. He was putting on a show, he knew she wasn’t alone. “I’ve got to go get dressed. If things start hitting the floor or flying at you don’t be afraid okay? I don’t think he’d actually hurt you.” And with that, she started up the stairs to slip into her party dress leaving Ruby standing frightened in the foyer anticipating something to happen. 

Belle passed Gold’s spirit in the upstairs hall and directed a “Be nice. I’ll only be a moment.” To which she only got a raised brow as a response. She thought nothing of it and continued to her room. It wasn’t long after she closed the door that she heard thuds and crashes of stuff being thrown about and she sighed.

Quickly getting dressed she made her way back down to the foyer to find a satisfied looking ghost standing in the midst of strewn about items slurping back yet another one of her party treats and no sign of Ruby. She let out a frustrated breath, grabbed the Jell-O shots tray and walked through the man’s form, mumbling she’d be home late, and out the front door in search of her friend so they could go to the party. 

She was woken up rudely the next morning. She didn’t suspect him serious but more-so vengeful and wanting to make sure his point was taken. No people in the house. She now fully understood. 

—

He’d scared her. She had to admit that he had. His emotions had played so rawly on his face. Confusion, betrayal, anger, and sadness all plain as day. She’d thought she’d seen a flash of forgiveness in there somewhere but she wasn’t sure and when he’d growled out his request that she go she knew without any second thoughts or hesitation that she must. He needed his space, that much was definitely clear and so she’d left to spend the night over at Ruby’s, the two of them avoiding the topic of ghosts for the time. 

She went to work the next morning and went about her usual routine. She helped fellow readers and school children to find just what they were looking for, references, popular titles, general fiction, etc.. She reorganized shelves, catalogued new arrivals and all the like as she normally would. It was nearing closing time when she got a rather odd visit from a man she’d only seen and spoken with a handful of times. 

She watched as he stepped in and locked the door behind him, indicating a hush-hush conversation was about to take place. The library was dead and he apparently knew it to be such without a second glance. He stepped up to the counter and leaned forward on his elbows. She felt an odd aura about him, one she couldn’t quite place. She could tell he was gifted, a peculiar soul like herself, but she didn’t recognize his ability. He had a gleam in his eye as if he knew exactly what was going on. 

“May I help you, sir?” She asked him as evenly toned as she could muster. 

He shook his head. “No, but I believe I may be of assistance to you. You’re Belle, correct?” 

She nodded her affirmation. “Yes, I am, and I believe you’re-“

“Jefferson Hatter, at your service.” He cut her off to introduce himself, a notion Belle normal would find quite rude, but oddly not with this man. “I understand you have a ghost problem?” There was a glint in his eye as he smiled down at her. She mutely nodded once and he took it as an invitation to continue. “Mr. R. S. Gold was a tricky man to love in life, and an even trickier man to care for in death. Never accepts help, that one, for his trust levels are shameful.” 

She rose a confused brow at him and opened her mouth to speak. “You-“

“Knew him? Why yes! We did business together and by that, I mean many of those dusty suits in his closet were fitted by me. I’m a tailor.” He told her while adjusting his waistcoat ever so slightly as emphasis because it fit him like a glove and there was no real need to.

“A tailor with ghost advice? How strange.” Belle stated, hoping to get an answer as to just what his gift is out of him. 

“Indeed.” He simply smirked. “But I sense your no stranger to the strange.” 

“You sense correctly.” She gave him a polite nod. “I’m a-“ 

“Medium of sorts.” He butt in again. “Clairvoyant and Clairaudient. A beautiful brew.” 

She nibbled her lower lip to mask her growing mild annoyance at being cut off so often and just had to wonder how he could pick up on her so easily. Was it that easy to read her? “Good observation.” She decided to say “What about yourself? You have quite the aura about you.” 

He tapped his temple, his smirk ever present. “Well, we all have our secrets.” Ah, a psychic of sorts then? Belle just had to assume he was such. They always were cryptic about who they truly were. “Now back to the matter at hand, Gold’s spirit. He’s done something drastic, am I correct?” 

Belle shrugged. “I suppose, but I angered him. He found out about my gift and I guess he felt exposed. He snapped and told me to leave, so I’m giving him his space.” 

“Fair.” Jefferson gave a curt nod and then pointed a digit at her, twirling it in slow circles with narrowed eyes. “Don’t be gone from his sight too long now. Don’t want him to be lonely, do you?” 

“Of course not. I was thinking maybe one more night and I’ll go back tomorrow.” 

“Why not tonight? I say the sooner the better!” 

Belle’s eyes went wide. “He was absolutely beside himself not twenty hours ago! Are you mad?!”

“Yes, But that’s besides the point.” The man waved a hand as if brushing away the topic. “Gold’s always made use of his time alone. He thinks and comes up with his decisions rather quickly. I’d say, right about now he’s missing seeing your sweet little face around his halls.” He tapped his wrist, however, he wore no watch. “He needs you, you know. He could really use someone, and I sense if you run home now, he’ll be beside himself in a different sense.”

“You think he’d be excited to see me?” Her tone was unsure and almost disbelieving. All he’d ever tried to do was get her to leave and now she was gone. She didn’t want to think that when she went back he’d kick her out again, but she couldn’t imagine him being overly happy for her return.

“He’s probably mourning the loss of your company as we speak. He’d be delighted to have you home.” His smile was genuine and Belle couldn’t shake the feeling he knew what he was talking about. 

“Alright,” she sighed understandingly with a shy little nod. “I’ve got some things to do in town first, but I will go back tonight. Thank you, Jefferson.” 

“A pleasure.” The man tipped his hat at her. “Now,” He said standing to full height quickly and clapping his hands with a small bounce in toned down excitement. “I need to find something,” he gestured towards the shelves not too far away. “My dear little Gracie has been begging for daddy to read her a new bedtime story!” 

Belle puffed an air of laughter through her nose at his antics and moved around her circulation desk.”I think I may have just the thing. Henry and his father came in not long ago to return it.” She pulled a thick rectangular book from the lower shelves of the children’s section. “It’s a collection of fairy tales. Henry absolutely loved it, so I have no doubts Grace will too.” 

Jefferson took the large book from her. “ ‘Once Upon A Time’? “ at Belle’s small nod he smiled kindly. “It’s perfect!” 

—

Gold had been happy to see her home, he’d even been waiting for her in the foyer and that thought warmed her heart just as much as it spooked her. She was glad he understood that having her here did him some good and was especially glad that he decided to share his name with her. They had a small conversation in the foyer that transported into the kitchen and every second of it Belle deeply appreciated. But that time passed and they now sat in the parlour, a Pawn Stars marathon playing as background noise as they pretended to watch, read or spin while they actually kept an eye on each other.

She hummed in thought and they watched each other a moment. She bit her lip. “So…” She began. “Um, I can’t help but ask because it’s on my mind.” She closed her book to show it was something she really wanted to talk about. “You scared Ruby off that day I asked her to wait in the foyer for me… does that mean I can’t bring people in?” 

He blinked owlishly a moment, it seemed he was thinking. “Well… I suppose it is your house too now so I can’t exactly forbid you…” He thought about it long and hard before at last, he shrugged. “Maybe just, I don’t know…ask me first? I suppose could make do with allowing a few people in on occasion if you really wish to have them here.” 

Belle smiles lightly but then a thought crossed her mind and it fell. “If you let my friends in you can’t scare any of them off, though, okay?”

His eyes narrowed at her and he said something most unexpected. “Halloween?” 

“Well,” She bit her lip because how exactly was one supposed to respond to that? “Scaring people on Halloween is a given.” She said with a shrug at last. “I think I’ll also give you April Fools. You can have your fun with my friends then.” 

“Sounds like a deal to me. Now, I believe I get to ask you something concerning our little arrangement.” He stopped his wheel from turning, it creaking to a halt and his eyes were serious. “Please don’t throw away, replace or rearrange any of my belongings without my consultation.” 

She allowed herself to giggle shortly. “No worries there, Rum. I quite like your things. However, it would be nice if I could add a few personal touches here and there without fear of them being rid of by morning.” 

“Touches like the Television?” He hummed the question. 

“Yeah, I guess. I was thinking more along the lines of new curtains and throw pillows. Some kitchenware, the odd picture frame or lamp maybe… is that alright?” 

He ran a hand through his ghostly locks as he looked around the parlour at his things. “Anything you’re permitted to replace goes to the attic. You may add your things in the empty spaces.” 

She nodded slowly, agreeing to his terms. “Sounds fine.” She watched as he stood and made his way over to shake her hand. “One more thing!” She requested offering her hand. He paused, brow raised before they made contact. “Please don’t eat all of my snacks at once. I’d like some too, it’s why I bought them.” 

He chuckled and gripped her hand. “So long as we can agree to indulge in them together from time to time.” They shook on it, neither hesitating. “The deal is struck.” 

She smiled to him and glanced towards the television where the latest episode was coming to a close. “What do you say we indulge ourselves now? While we watch more TV?” 

…

A snack cake was tossed at her head, fell into her lap and she opened it seconds later. She watched as on the screen the main guy, Rick or something like that showed some vintage children’s toys to a collector. “Are there actually people out there like that? Who collect things like little tin cars and wooden action figures?” She asked before taking a bite. 

“You have to ask that after staying here?” Gold responded a hand gesturing to the odd little trinkets he had laying about. 

Belle blushed lightly in embarrassment. “Well no, but like…” she sighed “You have so many things, Rum. You have old signs, old books, old furniture… a lot. Do people really just go out and collect one type of thing?” 

He nodded simply. “Everyone has something strange they cherish. I like antiques in general, but for many, it’s much more specific than that. Some people really like clocks, some like toys, some like kitchenware, and some like signs. It’s like you and your books, Belle.” 

She hummed. That made sense now that she thought about it. “How many HoHo’s do we have left in that box?” 

“Two.” He mumbled around a mouthful. 

Her eyes bulged. “I’ve only had three!” 

“So?” He queried. 

She furrowed her brows at him. “We just opened a box of twelve! You ate seven of them!” 

He swallowed the remainder of his last cake. “Whoops.” He said flatly and she tried to throw her wrappers at him. They fluttered in the air uselessly and he chuckled.

—

Months later on a chilly Saturday afternoon in the fall she entered the diner to pick up yet another freshly baked good to satisfy her housemate’s wants. It was quite busy that day, tables all occupied with people seeking a warm place to sip their drinks or nibble on brunch and a small line of In-and-out customers forming near the till. Belle stepped into the queue and took in the people in the room, looking for one she recognized. 

There, on her left in a booth with his wife. Neal, Rum’s son was sat. She was just barely able to pick up on his conversation. “Emma, I just don’t know what to do, alright.” Belle overheard. “Henry’s been asking me about his grandfather. He never really got to know him before Pop’s kicked the bucket. I never really knew the man much myself after I left, and not very much before then either. He was always so closed off back then…. What can I tell him?” 

His wife shrugged simply. “Just tell him what you do know. That’s what I did when he asked about my parents. I only know they had no choice but to give me up to the system. I never knew them at all.” 

Neal sighed. “I just…” Belle watched as he shook his head “I don’t know. It’d be too easy to paint my dad as a bad guy, even if I know he really wasn’t. I don’t want to give Henry the wrong idea or confuse him. The few times he did meet my father, Papa was really good with him.” 

Belle bit her lower lip, feeling rather bad for them. They couldn’t interact with Rum the way she could. They probably wouldn’t even believe her if she told them what she was capable of doing. She watched as Emma shrugged almost hopelessly, little idea of what they could tell their boy about Rum. Belle decided she had to say something. 

She was next in line and waited until she had a box of Granny’s pumpkin spice muffins before making her way over to the couple. “Hi, Neal, Emma, how are you today?” 

“Ah, pretty alright.” Neal shrugged, he looked around the diner before sliding over in his booth. “Would you like to sit?” 

Belle smiled politely and accepted the offered seat. They looked from one another awkwardly for a moment before Belle broke into the conversation. “So I couldn’t help but overhear while I was in line…” she began to grab their attention. “Henry wants to know his Grandfather.” 

Neal huffed out a defeated breath. “Yeah, and I don’t know what to tell him.” 

Belle shrugged one shoulder “Tell him what your father would’ve wanted him to know.” 

Neal and Emma made brief eye contact before Neal croaked out an “I don’t know what that is.” 

The medium sighed. “Rum would want Henry to know that he loves him. That he wished they’d had more-“ She was about to go on when a glance out the diner door stopped her. There was Henry, conversing with the dead. “Henry’s talking to Graham.” 

“Henry’s talking to Graham?” Neal repeated as a question. 

“Grahams dead!” Emma supplied. 

Belle nodded and pointed out the window. The ten year old boy was standing before what Belle saw was Grahams Ghostly form, but others would see as nobody, talking avidly about something they couldn’t hear. “Henry can talk to the dead…”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I thought try my hand at writing a Halloween fic! Hope you guys found this entertaining! 
> 
> Epilogue planned to be released shortly! Spoiler: Halloween night! 
> 
> If anyone is interested I was also thinking of writing Belle’s side of this, to explain her thoughts throughout. Also have some other events In mind to make it differ from this part.... good idea or nah? Would anyone read it?


End file.
